That's right, every match after Ceciline ended with his opponents surrendering one by one, all the way to the final round. Even his last opponent gave up without a fight.
The final challenger even bowed deeply, a hint of fanaticism gleaming in his eyes as he murmured:
"Dragon Saint."
Then he slammed his head onto the ground, over and over, until blood spurted across the floor, staining the stadium.
Drayken felt a strange discomfort stir in his heart. There was nothing pleasant about this.
In fact, he sensed there had been some kind of misunderstanding.
There was no way he could be anything like that. He wasn't even a native of this world, how could he possibly be some so-called "destined one"?
And the system had told him as much—it wasn't that he was the one, but that he had simply taken the opportunity.
